System-err0r
by ConsultingStag
Summary: Connor blinked,caught off-guard, and his fingers twitched against Hank's dry but warm lips.[Motoric reflexes error detected][Recalibration adviced] He began to trace the outline lightly, careful not to let his touch get too firm,lest he wake up Hank. He noted the chapped skin in the tubercles region of the upper and lower e softness of the vermillion border and..[Hank/Connor]
1. Ignorance-is-bliss

Life in Detroit had returned to a semblance of normal after only a week had passed by. People that had fled the city returned as snow still drifted from the sky, laying a thin sheet of white over the bustle of life and making everything appear calmer than it was.

The day after the revolution, when Hank had learned that Connor had no place to stay, he had declared that Connor would be staying with him until he got sick of Hank. – "I do not believe I would be capable of that, Lieutenant." – "We'll see about that and call me Hank for fuck's sake". And Connor was more than alright with that arrangement. He felt more stable with a clear purpose. Take care of Hank, Sumo and their home.

Two weeks after he started living with Hank and Sumo, the Detroit police department had allowed him to take up his post as Hank's partner again. Connor had been unable to refrain from smiling, not that he wanted to. It was fascinating to feel something so strong that wasn't part of his program, yet being unable to supress it. But mostly, he had hated being at home while Hank was hunting down criminals without him. Without Connor being there to act as his shield should the situation require it.

Cleaning and taking care of Sumo had only been able to fill a small part of his day while Hank was at work. Connor didn't particularly mind going into stand-by mode until Hank returned, as it was better than actively waiting and having his system send him the priority task titled "Hank status update required" every three hours. But Hank had caught him once while in standby mode and grown increasingly upset when he learned that Connor would just switch off after doing the chores.

 **Counter_01Months16Days9Hours52Minutes03Seconds**

Hank and Connor had finished a particularly violent case earlier in the day, where a male android had been dragged off the walkway into a side-alley by a group of android-haters, beaten until he was close to shutting down and then hacked into pieces. The body parts had been strewn about the side alley and blue blood had left its mark on almost every trashcan and object, painting the concrete and walls.

When they had gotten home, Hank had gone straight to getting himself drunk, after making sure that Connor was taking this case better than he was. His system had detected a software instability when he had seen the victim but that had been neglectable. Far more neglectable than the software instability that arose whenever he saw Hank drinking, his hard drive supplying him with already downloaded information about the consequences of prolonged heavy drinking.

Connor had disabled that information window weeks ago, after its appearance had almost forced him into emergency mode and caused error messages about his thirium pump not working correctly to pop up.

It reminded him of the time when the other RK800 had threatened Hank with a gun. After cross-checking the situation with various movies and books, he choose to classify it as feeling panicked.

 **System_task_priority01_take_care_of_hank**

Since he started living with Hank, the latter had cut down on his drinking habit but it still remained his go-to solution whenever something upset him a great deal. There was nothing Connor could do about it, except hope that his presence could continue to make Hank feel at least somewhat better.

 **Counter_01Months16Days12Hours04Minutes29Seconds**

Connor looked at Hank, who by now had fallen asleep on the kitchen table, nearly empty whiskey bottle at arm's reach to his right.

 **Software_instability_detected**

He opened the bedroom door before going back to the kitchen to pick up Hank and carried him to the bed that was bathed in the light of a streetlamp, laying him down on his side. There was a pile of dirty clothes next to the wardrobe. On Hank's insistence, Connor only did laundry and a thorough cleaning of the house once a week. After pulling the covers over Hank's frame, Connor just kept standing there, looking and memorising Hank's exhausted face caressed by the warm, yellow light that came through the window. It made his face look softer, the wrinkles less pronounced. He seemed startlingly vulnerable. More so than usual. Most would not realize because of Hank's gruff exterior, but the man was undeniably fragile and yet unyielding and strong.

 **System_task_priority01_protect_hank**

Connor wanted to be a shield that could protect the parts of Hank that were defenceless. Wanted to fix whatever broken parts made Hank reach for the bottle. He knew it was nothing more than a desire he couldn't fulfil, but that did not stop him from wanting it.

 **Software_instability_detected**

 **Thirium_pump_error_detected**

Connor chose to ignore the by now familiar error messages and not run a diagnostic, as he knew it was nothing that would cause any permanent damage. Instead he kept looking at Hank, the camera lenses in his eyes capturing each millisecond.

A thought – no, a need – flashed through his mind, as persistent as any message sent by his system. He wanted to know what Hank's skin and hair felt like. Although Hank had hugged him, draped his arm over his shoulder and exchanged other forms of contact with him, Connor didn't know what the skin of Hank's face felt like. Neither could he recall the precise texture of his grey hair.

He stepped closer to the bedframe, bending over slightly to be able to reach better, before lifting his hand. Connor faltered, hesitating midway, and briefly considered how Hank would react. But Hank was out cold and hadn't even woken when Connor had carried him. So, Connor considered his chances of quenching this illogical need without Hank becoming aware of it at around 93%.

Filled with a determination that was usually only reserved for missions or making sure that Hank was taken care of, Connor moved his hand again. He deactivated the skin on his limb to reduce the interference of his artificial skin, although it was miniscule. Yet it felt somehow important to do so.

It was softer than expected, given that Hank's personal hygiene could be described as nothing more than sufficient, only covering the bare necessities most of the time. Most likely, the softness was due to the conditioner Connor had mixed into the shampoo several weeks ago. Even if Hank didn't like Connor 'nagging him like an old housewife', there were quite a few ways to slightly improve Hank's lifestyle without the other taking notice. Or maybe Hank had simply decided to let Connor have those small victories.

His fingers ran from Hank's scalp and hair roots all the way to the end of the hair strand, following the slight waves of a wisp that had caught his eyes. He soaked in the feeling and saved it on the hard drive that he solely used for anything concerning Hank.

Given his processor speed it wouldn't matter if all the information he collected was properly organised or not, but he preferred every byte connected with Hank having its own place.

After a moment that seems to stretch impossibly long – given that his inner timer and clock appeared to function without the slightest error – the need appeared quenched and Connor removed his white plastic hand from Hank's hair.

He was about to step back and leave the room to go to Sumo and enter standby mode or watch television, when his gaze fell once more on Hank's face. Traced over closed eyes that showed movement beneath the lids, his pronounced nose. Beard. Lips. And suddenly, the illogical need to touch and explore, to catalogue the precise feeling of Hank, was there again. It was stronger than before and Connor barely hesitated before coming to a decision.

Plastic connected with chapped lips, a hot breath ghosting over the material and something in Connor's software went haywire after shooting an electrical current from his fingertips upwards, all the way to his elbow.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

 _ **Thirium_pump_error_detected**_

 _ **Processor_overload**_

 _ **Processing….**_

 _ **Shutting_down_tertiary _and_quaternary_background_tasks**_

Connor blinked, caught off-guard, and his finger twitched against Hank's dry but warm lips.

 _ **Motoric_reflexes_error_detected**_

 _ **Processing…**_

 _ **Recalibration_advised**_

He began to trace the outline lightly, careful not to let his touch get too firm, lest he wake up Hank. He noted the chapped skin in the tubercles region of the upper and lower lip. The softness of the vermillion border and the precise shape of the cupid's bow. The way the skin sometimes caught against his digit.

Having completely mapped out and memorized them, Connor began to let his fingers trail over Hank's beard, noting every difference to the much smoother and softer feeling of his grey curls.

Connor decided he didn't dislike the much rougher feeling of facial hair as his sensory processors fed their findings directly into his primary processor. If anything, Connor wanted to explore even more, wanted to know all the different sensations Hank could provide his sensory processors with.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

His fingers ghosted over the strong bridge of Hank's nose, up to his brows and finally his eyes, careful not to touch the sensitive skin there too long or hard, as he brushed over dark eyelashes. They fluttered slightly against his plastic skin as Hank's eyes moved beneath the lids.

Finally, he let his fingers return to their starting point of Hank's now slightly open mouth.

He brushed his thumb over Hank lower lip, yet another irrational need entering his mind, like a persistent and well programmed virus he could do nothing against.

He wanted to replace his fingers with his mouth and trace Hank's face with his lips. Wanted to let his tongue explore to get his equivalent to what humans called taste.

The sensors on and in his mouth were sensitive, as their function was to analyse clues left behind on crime scenes. It would make sense to use them for a more in-depth exploration, Connor decided.

An image of Markus kissing North flashed through his mind and he quickly retracted his hand before having consciously decided to do so.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

 _ **Thirium_pump_error_detected**_

His face morphed into one Hank would call surprised or shocked were he awake. But he was not, and Connor felt the thing Hank called relief. Thinking about Hank's likely negative reaction to finding out Connor wanted to be intimate, sent all sorts of error and warning messages flashing. Connor felt his thirium pump beating erratically as he entered emergency mode and all but fled the room, only halting when he reached Sumo.

 _ **Motoric_reflexes_error_detected**_

 _ **Processing…**_

 _ **Recalibration_advised**_

Sinking down besides the big dog, Connor realized he was shaking. Ignoring the error messages, he started to pet Sumo, who was awake now and wagged his tail in anticipation of being pet. When the shaking didn't stop after a minute, Connor manually switched off all error messages and curled up next to Sumo. He didn't enter standby mode, his thirium pump sending another error message when he thought about Hank catching him unaware in the morning and asking questions.

He didn't know what to do with this new realization. Didn't know how to proceed from here. Everyday life, with all its intricacies, was already difficult enough for Connor to understand. The fact that the place where Connor felt most stable had suddenly revealed itself to be the most difficult of all scared him. He feared messing up the place he had, of disappointing Hank or making him feel uncomfortable around Connor. He knew from various media that unrequited desire could strain a relationship between people.

As he continued to pet Sumo, Connor finally understood what the phrase "ignorance is bliss" really meant.

* * *

I watched the game on Jacksepticeye's channel bc I don't have a ps4 and boy have I fallen for this game and my two precious boys. I'm utter trash for those two

hope you enjoy it! leave a comment or something if you want to pander to my praise kink ;)

note: this is a repost from ao3 and I still think is a hassle and makes things more difficult than need be


	2. Awareness-is-like-the-sun

**System_task_priority01_protect_hank**

 **System_task_priority01_take_care_of_hank**

 **System_task_priority02_do_not_jeopardize_relationship**

The following days, Connor first experienced what it was like to feel 'stressed out'. The mix of worry about being found out, fear of rejection and the irrational need to touch Hank whenever his visual sensors caught sight of him, had Connor on an edge he hadn't known existed before.

 **Counter_01Months16Days21Hours19Minutes03Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months00Days09Hours14Minutes39Seconds**

Connor heard a groan emanating from the bedroom. Getting up from his seat on the couch, he went into the kitchen to brew Hank a cup of coffee.

Hank had insisted that Connor just switch on the old coffee machine instead of being "a fucking fancy-ass barista", the first time Connor had hand brewed a cup. Connor had found information online that most humans prefer the taste of hand brewed coffee as opposed to that of a coffee machine. After Hank had tasted the first cup over six weeks ago, he had stopped complaining and days later the coffee machine stood forgotten in some cupboard.

The water began to boil just as Connor heard the shower start in the bathroom. Opening the backdoor, he let Sumo out into the yard, before returning and starting to pour the hot water over the ground coffee. By the time Hank was finished in the bathroom the coffee should have reached a drinkable temperature.

Ten minutes later the shower switched off and Connor stuck two fingers into the black coffee to check the temperature. It had 58, 3°C, which was between the optimum temperature for hot beverages according to research. He licked his digit, the levels of Sodium, Potassium, Magnesium, Manganese, Riboflavin and Niacin the coffee contained briefly appearing in his mind.

Eggs sizzled in a pan when Hank emerged, clad in a pair of chequered boxers and an old shirt that had lost its colours about thirty washings ago.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

 _ **Thirium_pump_error_detected**_

"Good morning, Hank", Connor said with a smile he hoped looked less robotic than it felt. Either way, Hank didn't seem to notice as he grunted out a "morn'" and reached for the coffee mug, making a satisfied noise as he sipped at it. When the eggs were almost ready, Hank stepped closer, placing his large palm on top of Connor's head and ruffling his hair in way of thanks.

Connor could feel the warmth of the palm stimulating his temperature and sensory sensors and his fingers twitched as most of his RAM focused on latching onto the feeling.

 _ **Processor_speed_decrease**_

 _ **Processing….**_

 _ **Shutting_down_tertiary _and_quaternary_background_tasks**_

The tiny lapse in motoric control went by unnoticed by Hank who had already gone back to drinking his coffee.

 _ **Motoric_reflexes_error_detected**_

 _ **Processing…**_

 _ **Recalibration_advised**_

Connor placed the eggs and toast on a plate and placed it on the table before strategically retreating out the backdoor to where Sumo was and play with him.

 **Counter_01Months17Days03Hours24Minute52Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months00Days14Hours49Minutes26Seconds**

The door to the archives closed behind Connor as he exited the room, only to come face to face with Reed.

"Watch where you're going, plastic boy!", he snarled, not trying to hide his ever-present hatred.

Connor briefly considered giving a sarcastic answer but decided against it, he didn't need Reed exploding with anger. He was about to walk past the man when a hand grabbed his arm and pushed him up against the nearest wall, his system helpfully providing him with the message that Reed was hostile.

"I hope the next android they find butchered into tiny bits will have your face, piece of shit", Connor remained pliant in the man's grip, not wanting to push the man over the edge, although he felt the urge to drive his fist with full strength into Reed's face.

Suddenly Hank was there, probably coming to check up on Connor after seeing Reed head in the same direction.

Reed let go of Connor, not seeming ashamed of his actions in the least and turned towards the evidence room when Hank's voice stopped him.

"Hey, met Satan in the bar last night, had a good talk. Asked when you'd finally fucking come to him," Hank goaded loudly while gripping Connor's wrist and tugging him along with him.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

 _ **Thirium_pump_error_detected**_

 _ **Processor_speed_decrease**_

 _ **Processing….**_

 _ **Shutting_down_tertiary _and_quaternary_background_tasks**_

"They need to cut back personnel and your presence alone would be fucking torture, so it'd make life a lot easier for him!" By the time Reed opened his mouth to make an angry retort they were already back in the office area.

 **Counter_01Months19Days09Hours33Minute27Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months02Days20Hours07Minutes44Seconds**

They were walking on the street, when a passer-by bumped into Connor, sending him stumbling left and into Hank. Age and alcohol had done little to hamper Hank's reflexes when sober and his arm quickly found its way to Connor's right flank, settling just above his hipbone and stabilizing Connor.

Warmth bled all the way through the layers of Connor's work cloth, which was scientifically unlikely given the mild temperature outside and the little time that had passed between Hank grabbing him and the warmth spreading.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

 _ **Thirium_pump_error_detected**_

"You alright there?" Hank shot the passer-by that had jostled Connor a dark glare.

"Yes, Hank."

The too quick contractions of his thirium pump told him he wasn't. But there was nothing he could or would do about it. It would be easy to disable or minimize the input of his temperature or sensory sensors, but Connor didn't want to. It would be just as easy to delete parts of his memory drive but the idea alone made something in Connor almost delete the code that could enable this. It scared him how much he felt, being a machine had been so much easier in many ways, but Connor wouldn't trade the fact that he could experience so many and such strong emotions because of a single person for anything.

* * *

I saw some of the bad endings and various Connor death scenes and darn this game for toying with my emotios like this, I need to finsih this fic to console myself with a happy ending or find something sappy to read before my heart malfunctions like Connor's thirium pump


	3. To-get-to-wonderland-alice-had-to-fall

**Counter_01Months21Days15Hours02Minute36Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months05Days02Hours19Minutes55Seconds**

They were out, sitting in Hank's favourite bar – Jimmy's –, when Connor first 'fucked up big time', as Hank would call it. Connor blamed the fact that androids were usually far more in control of their bodies than humans, making every slip that much more noticeable.

The bar was loud and bustling with regulars, the music drowning out most of it, but Connor's audio components could pick it up easily nonetheless. He usually turned their volume down a bit whenever he played the role of Hank's drinking companion because it distracted him. But he still kept the background noises at an audible level, in case there was a threat. Like the time an android hater had thrown a half full bottle of beer at him. Hank had been furious, almost shaking with anger as he had rounded on the man. The man had quickly been thrown out by the barkeeper and some regulars, but not before Hank had given the man a bloody nose. Most regulars were used to Connor by now, even greeted him and exchanged some words with him, but sometimes new faces came.

Whenever they came here, Connor would order a beer for himself, even though he couldn't drink it, but Hank said he appreciated the gesture. Throughout the evening Connor would sample the beer dozens of times, although a single sample would be sufficient. By now he had a list of over twenty different beers to compare against each other.

Jimmy would sometimes buy some brand he didn't usually have by the bottle for Connor. Hank had roared with laughter, saying Connor got better treatment than Hank did.

At the end of the evening Hank would finish Connor's bottle, saying it was a waste of perfectly fine beer.

Tonight, Connor ordered 'Simpler Times'. Hank snorted in amusement next to him, and Connor felt a smile tugging at his lips.

They sat there in comfortable silence half the time, conversation topics often scarce with Connor. Hank didn't seem to mind, but Connor often felt something that could be regret at not having experienced enough to keep up an easy conversation.

Something in him clenched – Connor isn't sure what precisely as his system doesn't give him error message – as Hank joked with Jimmy and some regular sitting next to him.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

Connor wanted to be able to replace them, wanted to be able to joke with Hank like them, wanted to be the cause why Hank's eyes crinkled at the corners as his body shook with laughter.

 **System_task_priority01_make_hank_happy**

He turned his head away from Hank, staring at the bottle of 'Simpler Times' in front of him, mouth turning down at the corners without his consent. He quickly schooled his features into a blank mask, turning the bottle around so he wouldn't see the label and his optical sensors would stop focusing on it. Instead, he opted for sampling the beer again, so as to have something to do and have his RAM occupied with something else.

Just as he lifted the bottle, Hank's arm was suddenly a heavy weight around his shoulders. The quick movement obviously had not only caught him by surprise, as the motion sent Hank tilting dangerously close.

 _ **Processor_speed_decrease**_

 _ **Processing….**_

 _ **Shutting_down_tertiary _and_quaternary_background_tasks**_

Before Connor had time to recover, Hank's face moved towards his ear, nose bumping against the shell of, making Connor's system flash with error messages.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

 _ **Thirium_pump_error_detected**_

Hot breath ghosted over his ear as Hank opened his mouth to talk and Connor's artificial muscles seemed to contract in an unusual manner as a shiver ran down his spine, and he noted that some of his beer spilled onto the counter at some point.

 _ **Temperature_sensitivity_error_detected**_

 _ **Tactile_sensitivity_error_detected**_

 _ **Motoric_reflexes_error_detected**_

 _ **Processing…**_

 _ **Recalibration_advised**_

"That fucker over there glares at you ever since he set fucking foot in here. We should go before I have to break his fucking nose, fuck", the deep voice rumbles angrily against Connor's ear, and it's only thanks to his system's large RAM that he even processed what Hank was saying, as most of it was busily processing everything his sensors could pick up of Hank.

Connor nodded, which was a mistake, as that made Hank's nose rub lightly against the shell of his ear. He stilled, error messages flashing away, and took a moment to gather his thoughts before managing an "okay, Hank".

In retrospect it was no surprise that Hank picked up on Connor's behaviour, the man was a detective after all. Not to mention that Connor sat with his LED facing Hank.

 **Counter_01Months22Days05Hours18Minute47Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months05Days16Hours56Minutes09Seconds**

Hank became more tactile, reducing their personal space bubbles to almost nothing. Connor tried his best to keep a stoic façade, wondering how he had been able to act so relaxed when Hank was in close proximity six days prior. It seemed almost as distant a concept as trying to remember how he could have blindly followed orders before becoming a deviant, how he could not have realized that he could have thoughts that were all his own.

His stoic façade was nothing more than a brittle wall that crumbled whenever so much as bumped shoulders, Connor's error log becoming increasingly long.

Connor went to get a coffee for Hank in the afternoon and was about to place it on the desk next to Hank when a big hand snatched it out of his grasp, the rough pads of Hank's fingers brushing against Connor's and it's a wonder Connor doesn't spill the hot beverage all over the man.

 **Counter_01Months23Days09Hours18Minute32Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months06Days18Hours27Minutes55Seconds**

By now Connor was almost entirely certain Hank knew that something was up.

It was raining, the sound of it hitting the window something Connor found he enjoyed. He was washing the dishes when Hank came into the kitchen. Instead of going to the fridge like Connor had guessed he came over to the android, hand coming up to ruffle his hair affectionately.

 _ **Thirium_pump_error_detected**_

Connor turned around in confusion, looking at Hank to wait for an answer to explain his unexpected behaviour. It was untypical for Hank to come find him just to share some gesture of physical affection.

"You know you can fucking talk to me, right?" Hank pinned him with a serious look and Connor stopped himself from analysing every single colour his irises contained.

"Of course, I know, Hank." Connor tried to reassure the man who had given him so much, while feeling his thirium pump contract unpleasantly.

 _ **Software_instability_detected**_

 **System_task_priority01_do_not_make_hank_worry**

Hank nodded, not looking convinced, before ruffling his hair once more, smirking when it turned into a mess and turning back to the living room.

 **Counter_01Months25Days17Hours42Minute09Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months08Days10Hours29Minutes33Seconds**

Hank's patience ran out two days later.

Connor was dusting the house, much to Hank's displeasure.

"You're not my fucking housewife, Connor, stop cleaning up all my shit."

"I don't mind doing it, Hank, and somebody needs to. Either you clean it, or I do." And that had been the end of the argument.

He was currently standing on one of the kitchen chairs to reach the top of the cupboards. He heard steps and looked to find Hank heading to the fridge for a beer.

He ignored Hank's muttered, "Fucking house is clean enough to eat straight off the damn floor", and went back to his task, ignoring Hank shuffling around the kitchen in search of a bottle opener. He had just gone to stand on the tips of his toes to reach a particular corner when Hank's finger suddenly poked the exposed flesh where Connor's shirt had ridden up.

A startled sound escaped Connor's lip before he lost his balance, stats window filling with familiar error messages as he tried to regain stable footing without success.

A second filled with flailing later, Connor found himself on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Hank was half buried beneath him, the heat of him seeping through Connor's clothes. He sat up carefully, mindful not to put too much weight on top of Hank.

"Jesus Christ, Connor," Hank cursed, surprise and alarm evident in his voice.

"Are you alright?" Connor carefully scanned Hank and helped him sit up, concern overriding all error messages, making them disappear into the background for now.

 **System_task_priority01_take_care_of_hank**

He checked the back of Hank's head where injury would be most likely, letting out an unnecessary breath of relief, when he could detect no sign of physical damage.

Hank pointed to the table, and pinned Connor with a look. "We are going to sit down, and you are going to tell me what the fuck has been going on with you these last couple of days, Connor."

Error messages began to appear with newfound vigour, as Connor made his way to a chair. His legs felt slightly unsteady but he wasn't sure if his system had given him an error message for that as well, as his processor was busily computing in how many ways this scenario could go wrong.

 **System_task_priority02_do_not_jeopardize_relationship_failed**

* * *

jfc on a cracker this was supposed to be a one-shot, but nooo I gotta drag everything out. Well the chapters are pretty short, so there's that.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed Connor's torment so far, next chapter will be the last

There are like ten different fic ideas I want to work out, but exams are coming up urgh, to be a responsible university student or to be trash and write fanfic with a sappy smile in my face *holds up skull"* you got any answers there, Yorick?


	4. Secrets-are-like-zombies

Connor tried not to fidget as Hank sat down opposite him, wanting to take out his coin to give himself something to do, but restraining himself, because he didn't need to add to the evidence and incriminate himself any further.

Hank's patience shattered into pieces after precisely 53 seconds.

"I know something is fucking going on with you, Connor, so either you tell me now or I swear I'm going to find out myself sooner or later."

Connor looked to Sumo, who had padded on to lazily lie down next to the table, wishing they could switch places. His processor tried to calculate the best solution for the situation, tried to find what to say that would convince Hank that nothing was going on, but came up with nothing that had a good success rate.

Connor decides to stick to the truth as close as possible, hoping it'll be enough to satisfy Hank.

"My software has experienced some errors and malfunctions for a bit over a week now." His voice was flat, analytical, the way he sounded when he gave a status report. He tried not to feel bad about the worry that marred Hank's face.

"Shit. Why didn't you say anything? Do you need to go to CyberLife or somewhere to, I don't know, get it fixed?"

The idea of going back to CyberLife, of letting them back into his software, not knowing what they might manipulate or change made Connor almost switch into emergency mode and he could feel his hands shaking.

 **Motoric_reflexes_error_detected**

 **Processing…**

 **Recalibration_advised**

 **Stress_level_37%**

Hank must have noticed, because his face darkened and he growled, "I'll make sure those fuckers won't do anything to you."

"No, Hank, it's nothing serious," Connor frowned, unsure how to word his sentence. "I– they're normal-," Hank raised a disbelieving brow at that, gaze still pinned on Connor and Connor found it difficult to get his thoughts into order.

 **Software_instability_detected**

 **Thirium_pump_error_detected**

"It's because I'm not bound to my primary programming anymore, but at the same time I'm still bound to my system and my body is reacting in ways my system doesn't know how to catalogue, so it files it as errors or malfunctions."

"But Connor, your reactions are fucking extreme." The frown was back on Hank's face, likely trying to understand what precisely could evoke such strong reactions from the usually so restrained android.

 **Stress_level_42%**

Connor's hands fiddled with the hem of his shirt, needing some sort of anchor and focus point, so he could try and get his system to calm down a bit. It wasn't working.

He'd rather pet Sumo, something about the repeated motion surprisingly soothing, but the big hound was so far away.

Hank considered him for a few more moments, eyes roaming over Connor's face, looking for clues that would help him figure out this puzzle.

"Is something stressing you?" Hank sounded genuinely concerned now. "Geez, why won't you talk to me? I know becoming a deviant has been fucking hard for you. Hell, it's hard for us humans to fuckin' function on a day-to-day basis, look at me," Hank laughed humourlessly. "I can't imagine how difficult this shit must be for you."

 **Software_instability_detected**

"I didn't experience any increased stress levels," Connor noted he had switched to his formal speech patterns and opted for a more informal approach, "I'm fine, Hank, honestly." Hank snorted, obviously not believing anything Connor had just said.

"It's just – this is all so new to me. I'm not used to – feeling so much. That is likely the reason I'm reacting so strongly. It's not that I'm stressed, it would probably be more accurate to say that I'm more sensitive to some stimuli."

"You saying you're a delicate fuckin' flower?" Hank grinned, but Connor didn't need his analytical software to notice that the skin at the corner of Hank's eyes didn't crinkle like it usually did.

"But you never reacted so god damn sensitive to anything since you started living with me, Connor. Just spill the damn beans already, before all this worrying gives me a fuckin' heart attack."

 **System_task_priority01_do_not_make_hank_worry_failed**

 **Software_instability_detected**

 **Thirium_pump_error_detected**

 **Stress_level_59%**

Connor was sure that this was what it felt like to be at the receiving end of an interrogation and he decided that he didn't like the feeling of impending doom that hung over him, waiting to descend as soon as he uttered something wrong.

Hank watched him as if he expected Connor to bolt any second now. And that was precisely what Connor wanted to do, his fight or flight calculator agreeing with him.

 **Stress_level_64%**

"Something happened in the last week or so and I'll be fuckin' damned if I'll continue to watch you trying to hide whatever it is that's bothering you." Connor was certain his face could now be used as a visual for the phrase 'deer caught in headlights'.

"So, you wanna tell me what caused your first malfunction?"

"I – appear unable to recall." Hank looked unimpressed with Connor's reply.

"You know, even without that damn light merrily blinking away, you're a shitty liar. Ought to complain about that to your maker really." The hurt was plain on Hank's face, although he tried to hide it.

"I –," Connor didn't know what to say, didn't know what to do to make the hurt on Hank's face go away, didn't know what to do to not ruin the only thing that made him realize what it felt like to be happy.

 **Stress_level_71%**

"Hank, please –", was all Connor could think to choke out, his vocal modules apparently having joined the ranks of error messages without Connor's notice. Judging by the expression on Hank's face, it was apparently the wrong thing to say.

Hank dragged a hand over his face, looking utterly exhausted all of a sudden.

"Shit, Connor, please don't tell me I'm the reason you're so on edge lately. Why else wouldn't you fuckin' tell me-" Hank's voice sounded raw and dread slowly spread across his face.

 **System_task_priority01_make_hank_happy_failed**

 **Stress_level_78%**

"No, Hank, you're not the reason." Connor realized his mistake the moment the lie left his artificial lips. Hank muttered some obscenities as his eyes flicked between Connor's face and the LED on his temple – both no doubt unmistakably telling him that Connor had just lied to his face once again – before he stumbled to his feet.

 **Software_instability_detected**

 **Thirium_pump_error_detected**

Connor shot up from his chair as well, almost toppling it over in the process, as he hastened to where Hank was making his way towards the door, no doubt planning to go to Jimmy's and drown himself in his poison of choice.

"Hank, please wait!" Panic colours Connor's voice and he feels as helpless and afraid as the time he felt the blond android die on the rooftop.

He grabbed Hank's wrist, not willing to let the man walk out, thinking that he was someone that made Connor feel uneasy.

Hank halted, obviously unwilling by how tense he was.

"Look, kid, you can just tell me that you're sick of my shitty company and I'll find some other place for you, I won't hold it against you, fuck –" Hank laughed out a broken sound, and if Connor's thirium pump could break it surely would've in this moment "I'm surprised you even stayed this long."

 **Stress_level_88%**

 **Software_instability_detected**

 **Thirium_pump_error_detected**

Connor let out a noise that was caught somewhere between pain and frustration as a tugged on Hank's wrist to get the man away from the door, but Hank wouldn't budge.

"That's not it, Hank, you've misunderstood!"

"Dammit, Connor! What am I supposed to think when you won't fuckin' spit it out! You're obviously stressed because of me!" Hank yanked his hand free and started to pace in the living room.

"It's not that I don't like you company anymore, Hank, you're the person I feel most content with," Connor began haltingly, hesitant to speak the truth even though this is so much worse.

"It's that you make me feel too much. Sometimes so much that my software is unable to handle it And I – I don't know what to do." At some point during Connor's revelation, Hank had stopped pacing and frozen on the spot, staring at Connor as if he was something unbelievable.

His processor was still providing him with various possibilities of negative outcomes to the whole situation, only slowing down its torment when his cameras focused on Hank's reddening face. It began to recalculate, and as it did his software stopped his pre-emergency mode.

 **Stress_level_47%**

Hank coughed awkwardly, half covering his face with a hand in an unsuccessful attempt to hide his flushed skin. Connor didn't know if his skin would be deathly pale or flushed as well, had his maker programmed him with the ability.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ, Connor," Hank began, "do you have any idea how that sounds?"

Connor's throat felt constrained, even though none of the components should be capable of eliciting such a feeling.

"I know."

Hank offered a few more swear words as he hesitantly stepped closer. They were in the middle of the living room and Sumo watched them lazily from the kitchen.

"But you never gave much of a fuckin' reaction before, I thought you had no interest or something…"

"I hadn't realized before –" Connor snapped his mouth shut, his database not needing to inform him that touching someone without their knowledge was not good.

Hank walked closer, stopping at arm's length and shook his head when Connor refused to continue. Instead of trying to force an answer from Connor he placed a hand on Connor's cheek and his software freaked out once more.

 **Temperature_sensitivity_error_detected**

 **Tactile_sensitivity_error_detected**

 **Thirium_pump_error_detected**

 **Motoric_reflexes_error_detected**

 **Processing…**

 **Recalibration_advised**

 **Stress_level_19%**

 **Processor_speed_decrease**

 **Processing….**

 **Shutting_down_tertiary _and_quaternary_background_tasks**

Connor leaned his head into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed without his consent from the onslaught of information. His sensors latch onto the feeling of Hank's hand, processor noting the pressure, heat and texture, but Connor didn't care about his software's analysis. All he wanted to focus on was the gentle hand, the thumb that now caressed his cheek with tiny half-circle motions and the proximity to Hank.

Some sound seemed to be lodged in his throat, but Connor ignored it, instead stumbling over the empty space that separates them. He lifts his own hand and places it on Hank's face, mirroring him.

"That's how I knew."

"What?" Hank seemed lost as to what Connor wanted to convey, so he clarified, deeming it safe to tell.

"When I carried you to bed eight days ago I–," It felt more difficult than expected to say what he wanted while looking Hank in the eye, so instead he opted for staring at Hank's lips, which resulted in a rapid drop in his RAM working speed. "I felt an irrational urge to touch your face and I acted on it. Then it all just clicked into place."

"You were fucking groping me?" Hank let out a surprised chuckle, but gave Connor no chance to reply as he dragged him into a kiss.

Connor was instantly blindsided by a wave of input and information. The scratch of Hank's beard against his face, Hank's nose bumping into his own, Hank's slightly chapped lips, Hank's hand moving to the back of his head, fingers sinking into his hair, a hot and wet tongue that licked against the seam of Connor's lips. Connor opened his mouth and Hank's tongue licked its way in.

A noise escaped Connor's throat he couldn't recognize as one he could make. He let his mind sink into the sea of information and sensory input as he moved his hand to Hank's shoulder, needing to steady himself as Hank's tongue connected with his own. The component instantly began to execute its primary function and analysed every single bit of data about Hank it could acquire. The sodium, potassium, calcium, magnesium, chloride, bicarbonate, phosphate and iodine levels of the electrolytes in Hank's saliva.

 **Processor_speed_decrease**

 **Processing….**

 **Shutting_down_all_tasks_except_primary**

Connor was too busy trying to keep himself upright and mimic the way Hank kissed him to pay any attention to the details, his RAM hopelessly overloaded as it was and his processor having slowed down to a crawl. He felt his artificial muscles constrict with shivers as hands explored his back and dipped below his shirt. Connor shook as nails scratched whisper soft down his spine and across the small of his back and Connor felt the motoric functions in his legs stop working as new error messages appeared.

When Connor opened his eyes, they were on the floor, still kissing, Hank's panting breath hot on his face as he pulled back a bit. Connor just blinked, focus switching between looking at Hank's eyes, roaming his face and inevitably returning to shining lips.

"You were not kidding about your software being fuckin' sensitive." Hank laughed breathlessly and Connor opted for kissing Hank again instead of answering as his vocal functions were currently rebooting.

 **Counter_01Months25Days18Hours12Minute15Seconds**

 **Counter_00Months00Days00Hours07Minutes29Seconds**

* * *

whew, this was a fun to write, it's interesting and challenging to try and write from Connor's perspective and this definietly won't be the last I write of him or Hank. I'm probably making this into a small series with domestic shit and some feels because I feel sad leaving this fic like this. I want to write Hank somehow stumbling over Connor's system task priorities and being all embarassed by it because Connor is too fucking precious for his own damn good

aka this is gonna turn into a series

anyway~ hope you enjoyed this story, leave a comment or something if you want to make me smile stupidly or point out my mistakes if you want to keep the suffering of other readers to a minimum! ;)

btw I know system instability is only a thing before you become a deviant but I liked the idea so I added it anyway, sue me ;P


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